Ridiculous
by chrisco
Summary: Ron is ridiculous. Hermione ponders this.


Blahhhhhh. I'm so bored. And I have decided that I can't write stories. At all. So, I'm just writing random diddies of randomness to express my ineptitude. And I really need to actually finish stories when I start them...or at least actually come up with a plot for stories before I barge right into them.

A plot? Inconceivable!

Summary: Ron is ridiculous. Stop acting so ridiculous, Ron. Or Hermione shall scold your pretty red hair off. Honestly.

**Ridiculous**

He acts so ridiculous sometimes.

I don't think he even realizes it.

I remember when I first saw him. He had this stupid smudge of dirt on his nose. And he was just going along his business as if that was perfectly normal.

It kind of annoyed me.

So I told him to fix it. And he did try. That's more than I can say about what he does now if I point out his mistakes. But when he rubbed at that ridiculous little smudge, it didn't disappear in the slightest.

It was kind of funny. He always manages to mess something up.

It's almost—endearing.

Almost.

I remember it took him so long for him to learn that Wingardium Leviosa spell back in our first year. We'd been practicing it for two months before he finally got the hang of it. Of course, that was when our lives were being threatened by a giant troll, so I don't know if that was particularly cleverness that got him to master that spell, or just fear. I like to think it was a little bit of both. I just know I was quite proud of him for that.

And then there was that time when he broke his wand in second year from that tree that he crashed into (well, how else would Ron Weasley land a car?). He came into the Great Hall, with this downtrodden expression on his face like he lost his puppy. I couldn't help laughing a little bit. He glared at me for that.

But I saw his mouth twitch a little bit as if he was trying not to smile. I think he was expecting me to scold him. And, well, I didn't want to disappoint him, so I did. Scold him, I mean, not disappoint him. After my laughing fit.

Our fourth year was when things started to change between us a little bit. I can't pinpoint exactly when it happened. I just know there was something there that wasn't quite there . . . before.

I know. I'm not making a lot of sense, am I? But if Ron were to read this, he wouldn't find that fact unusual. He seems to think I'm some whole different kind of species.

Like when I told him to ask me to the ball first, not as a last resort. I really don't know why I said that. He obviously didn't know why either, if his imitation of a dying fish was anything to go by. Parvati followed me into our room after I left Ron standing there. She said, "Well, finally! It's about time one of you realized what was between you two all along!" I still have no idea what she was talking about. I hadn't said what I did because I was particularly in tuned with any sort of "relationship" that may have existed between us. I just, I don't know, thought that he should stop yelling at me for "fraternizing with the enemy" when it was obvious there was nothing wrong with Viktor. I was just sick of him acting like a jealous boyfriend, that's all.

Because he wasn't. My boyfriend, I mean.

That would be perfectly ridiculous.

And then fifth year, I kissed him on the cheek. And there, I _really_ don't know why I did that. I guess I was a bit worried for him. The Slytherins were being absolutely hateful toward Ron, and I just . . . wanted to cheer him up. I kissed Harry on the cheek too, at the end of fourth year. But that was completely different for some reason. And when I left Ron, he was just standing there with this ridiculous, dazed expression.

But for some reason, I didn't think it was ridiculous at the time. I thought it was—cute.

Oh god.

I'm Hermione Granger. I shouldn't be thinking boys are _cute_.

Because he definitely wasn't cute, now that I think about it. He was ridiculous. Just plain ridiculous.

And, I mean . . .

He never even does his homework properly. Whenever I picture myself with a boyfriend, I've always pictured myself with someone smart, someone from Ravenclaw probably. Definitely not someone like Ron.

"This homework is ridiculous," he always exclaims with the same look of hopelessness on his face as he stares at a blank piece of parchment. And I can't help but think, "Hey! Ridiculous is my word!" And when I'm about to admonish him for calling homework ridiculous, I see his face, and it's like second year all over again. And then I try to bite down the laughs that I always feel tempted to let out, so I end up saying something like, "Honestly, Ron, if you only tried listening in class a little more, you wouldn't have this problem." But then I always help him finish the work.

It's because of that ridiculous expression, of course. I just can't stand someone not being able to complete something so simple.

I just wanted to stop him from acting so ridiculous . . .

But maybe I need a little ridiculousness in my life.


End file.
